


Tempt Not A Desperate Man

by darksideofthe_moon



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Obsessive Behavior, Other, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksideofthe_moon/pseuds/darksideofthe_moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert chases pleasure. Vincent chases shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempt Not A Desperate Man

**Author's Note:**

> v. old piece

Vincent knew he should move away.

He knew he ought to retreat back down the hall to his own room, that if he was caught Gilbert would leave again, leave and stay away even longer – and _this is exactly why he runs_ \- that he should turn away, should retreat and turn to his dreams instead. ( _Oh,_ his dreams.)

And yet...

And yet Gilbert was so beautiful. Gods, what Vincent would give to know what had riled his brother so, aroused him to the point he had thrown himself on his bed as soon as he returned home without bothering to even check he’d shut the door. Aroused him to the point that his only thought was to find release, not worry about bright, hungry eyes watching him from the shadows.

Ah, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Vincent has been living his entire life according to that mantra, what is this to add to the list? So long as Gilbert doesn’t know – _doesn’t remember_ – all is well. As long as he stayed in the shadow, as long as he wasn’t caught, this is fine. As long as Gilbert didn’t notice, as long as Vincent didn’t touch, he could stay, he could watch.

Watch as Gilbert’s long fingers tugged his shirt open, stroked swiftly over a quivering, muscled stomach, watch those fingers travel down… watch Gil’s hair fall away from his face as his head tipped back on a drawn out moan.

Vincent bit his lip.

Upon noticing that Gilbert hadn’t even bothered to take his coat off, a pang of longing shook Vincent to the core. His boots lay discarded, close to the door, not undone – kicked off in haste. Vincent could see it so clearly: Gilbert toeing off the black shoes while fumbling at his belt and the laces of his trousers, crossing the room to the bed, eyes bright and face flushed.

_He probably thinks he’s kicked the door shut, as usual. I wonder if he knows he’s left it ajar… if some part of him realises. He’s not usually so careless. Has it crossed his mind that he might be seen… is that what has him so wanton? That someone might be watching… that I might be watching._

But Vincent discarded that thought quickly. No. It was only he that thought things like that. Only him that had such twisted feelings – such a twisted self. That’s why he had to stay in the shadows, why Gilbert belonged in the light.

Because Gilbert was radiant. _Gods, look at him._

His trousers were tangled around his knees, giving Vincent an easy view of where tapered fingers wrapped around his cock or disappeared between his thighs. Thighs that Vincent wanted to kiss, wanted to mark, wanted, wanted, _wanted._

It was only when Gilbert arched, gasping and blinded by pleasure that Vincent twisted around with a quiet curse, disappearing from view and leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath.  Eyes squeezed shut, Vincent doubled over as his hand flew to his mouth to stifle his soft noises of pleasure, while the other found his own cock with the image of Gilbert’s climax still burning bright behind his eyelids.

-


End file.
